


Hoops

by sebastiandamn



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Basketball let's go, Bisexual Lance, Bits of shallura, Gay Keith, I was at a basketball game and then thought of klance, Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, Lots of Angst, M/M, Mmmm, PINING KEITH, Spanish, angry keith, now BOOM, okay let's go, pining lance, spanish lance, this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9230852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebastiandamn/pseuds/sebastiandamn
Summary: aka the high school basketball AU you never knew you needed





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> So I was just at my school's basketball game, got bored and thought of my beautiful OTP, then just... BOOM my mind was reeling with AUs and headcanons. Mm, okay, let's establish some things.
> 
> There's gonna be flashbacks throughout freshman and senior year. Keith and Shiro are the big, mighty ballers, Pidge sits at that snazzy table that keeps score and makes announcements and such, Allura's the captain of the cheerleaders (duh), Coran is the Varsity head coach (also duh), and that leaves Lance and Hunk, who are both co-leaders of the student section. They get them riled up and loud and obnoxious, which (spoiler) makes Keith angry. 
> 
> Well that's it for now. Hope y'all enjoy the first chapter!

* * *

"I really want to kiss you right now," he breathed out.

 

"Then do it," Keith said back, already inching closer. Lance eyed his face up and down, his bottom lip mushed between his teeth.

 

"Do it..." he whispered thoughtfully. They were only inches apart now. "Just do it." Keith's face dropped, his smile disappearing. "JUST. DO. IT!" Lance wailed. Keith stepped away, groaning into his hand.

 

"Why are you like this?" the shorter boy asked. Lance only grinned.

 

"C'mon, you love it."

 

Keith quirked an eyebrow, but didn't say anything, which only made Lance's grin grow twice as large.

 

"You do! You didn't disagree!"

 

"Yes I did," Keith mumbled, bowing his head and kicking a stray rock on the pavement.

 

"Keith, mi dulce, mi amor-"

 

Lance was cut off when Keith closed the space between them, pressing their lips together.

 

**\- - -**

 

**Four Years Earlier**

 

Keith hated Lance.

 

Hated him with every fiber of his being. And it wasn't his fault;  _no,_ it was not. Lance himself is what caused the irritation, and Keith just... didn't like it. Like, at all.

 

It was gradual, really. Their school was so big that Keith never even heard of a Lance until freshman year. It was as if the boy never existed until Keith first lied eyes on him, like,  _really_  lied eyes on him. 

 

It was a cold, December evening four years ago: Keith's first ever basketball game. He was busy working on his layups during warm-ups, going and going and going, since those were the only shots he could actually make, trying to impress his coach, who, Keith later realized, never cared for either him or his progress in the sport. 

 

As expected, he started on the bench. This boy wasn't the best at the sport, and there were plenty of others who were fabulous on the team. Of course he would be sitting. Keith was a terrible dribbler, a terrible passer, a terrible shooter (layups are the exception).

 

They were getting demolished not even five minutes in, but Keith spent no time staring at the scoreboard. Instead, he focused on the players who were moving up and down the court. He listened intently to the squeaks of their shoes, the whistle of the refs when they noticed a foul. He stared intently at individual players as well, watching their form when they shoot, when they defend. The whole game was a dance, really. A pretty messy one, but a dance all the same.

 

There wasn't a big crowd, as they were freshmen and _pft,_ who cares about freshmen? Keith didn't mind; he didn't like being watched anyways. He had an unpopular opinion: he liked the quiet emitting from the crowd. Yes, occasionally some parents yelled at the refs ("He pushed right into his back! Not even our ball? Not a shot? What is this?! Not basketball, surely"), but there were no cheerleaders for the freshmen, and barely any students came to watch. They only came to the JV and Varsity. 

 

So it was weird when loud, raucous laughter came from outside the gym, and it distracted Keith from the game. He glanced over at the wide doors, which were open, and noticed that a small group of freshmen were making their entrance (ten minutes late but hey, they were there), loud as ever. 

 

Keith frowned, eyeing his peers. Yep, he's never seen them in his life. He watched as they took a seat where the student section usually sits, sitting close to the court. Who looked like to be the ringleader seemed to be instructing the others on what to do, making wide hand gestures and body movements. 

 

"Time out!" his coach had yelled suddenly, and Keith's attention was averted. 

 

Third quarter came around; they were still losing. His coach decided to throw Keith in there, growing both anxious and overwhelmed by how _bad_ they were actually playing. So why did he sub Keith in for one of the starters?

 

Why?

 

Keith's heart dropped when the ref waved for him to step onto the court, and he pointed at Luke, who looked just as confused as the raven-haired boy felt. 

 

There was a loud _whoop!_ and a series of claps that came from the crowd, and Keith looked up to see his aunt standing on her feet, a wide smile spread across her face. Keith sent her a small wave before focusing on the court around him, soon running to where the hole was in his team's defense. 

 

 _Okay, Keith,_ he thought to himself, _just focus. Guard your man, keep your arms up, stay on the balls of your feet-_

 

"Kogane!" his coach yelled, dragging the boy from his thoughts. The visitor's side of the bleachers were cheering and clapping, and he noticed everyone running to the other side of the court. 

 

 _Oh shit_ , he thought as he started running. _What happened?_  

 

"Get your head in the game, Kogane!" his coach belted again, and Keith could feel himself blush. 

 

 _Okay... so they probably scored as I was thinking. Well, not again!_ Keith mentally decided. He took a breath, stopping at his designated spot for the play they were going to run. 

 

"Bears!" Justin yelled from the top of the key, his arm held high between his opponent and the ball, and Keith froze. Bears? He hardly practiced that one! He casted his coach a wary glance. The older man's arms were folded, his lips pursed, and he wasn't giving Keith his attention at all.

 

 _Okay. Think, Keith, think. Fifth man waits till Third comes across... you screen Third's guy..._  

 

Keith watched as Kyle ran, screening Justin's man. Justin then dribbled around the screen, but got met by two other defenders, getting trapped.

 

Keith didn't know what he was doing until it was over. 

 

He stepped away from his spot near the baseline, running out into an empty space right down the middle of the lane.

 

"Here! Here!" he called, raising his hands in the air. 

 

"What are you doing?!" their coach yelled, and Keith suddenly realized that this wasn't part of the play. _But screw it, there's a wide opening right there! I can at least go for it._

 

Justin noticed him, and he hesitated before passing Keith the ball. 

 

" _What are you doing, Davidson!?_ " their coach roared as Keith's aunt yelled, "My boy has the ball!" 

 

And she was right.

 

Keith stood there, looking down at his hands, which were indeed cradling the ball. 

 

A high voice suddenly yelled, "Go, Kogane! Shoot da ball!" 

 

Keith did as he was told, pivoting on the balls of his feet and awkwardly dribbling the ball in from the left side. Once he got close enough to the net, he launched himself from the floor, bringing his left knee up, and placing the ball right smack in the middle of the square. His momentum carried him further under the net, but he knew he had made it when the crowd started to cheer. 

 

"That's my boy!" he heard her aunt yell. "That's my nephew, Keith!" she shouted to everyone around her. "Go Keith!" 

 

Keith knew he was blushing again, and he hurriedly made his way back to the other side of the court, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He casted a glance at the small student section as he did so, and he heard the same voice that yelled for him to shoot the ball cheering. It was the ringleader; a tall, tanned boy with tousled light brown hair, striking teeth, and bright blue eyes. 

 

 _Damn_ , he thought as he made his way to his spot, _who's that guy?_  

 

They met eyes, and the mysterious boy winked, sending him a side grin. Keith swallowed and turned away, knowing full well that his cheeks were red again. 

 

This time he was actually conscious as they defended. Keith tried to maintain his stance, keep his arms up, and box out whenever a shot went up. He was actually starting to get the hang of this...

 

It wasn't until he was going in for another layup when things had started to go downhill. 

 

The same boy from earlier was getting quite obnoxious, and when Keith was just a few steps away from the board, he yelled, "C'mon, Keith! You got it!" 

 

Keith didn't get it.

 

He tripped over his own feet, sending the ball rolling across the floor. An opponent snatched it up, running in a break away and scoring. 

 

"Davidson, in for Kogane! Now!" Keith heard his coach yell, and he winced as he ran over to the sideline, steeling himself for what was to come. "Sit down, boy," the older man said as Keith made his way toward them. He took a seat the furthest down, and unfortunately, he was followed. "Mind telling me what that slip up was all about?" 

 

"I-I'm sorry," he stuttered, mentally cursing himself. "It was a mistake." 

 

His coach narrowed his eyes. "You may have cost us the game, son." Keith's violet eyes widened. "But... good job, overall." He patted Keith's shoulder. "You're done for tonight." He then proceeded to walk back down to his usual spot, and started yelling once again ("Richards! Behind you! Davidson, no! Bounce pass! _Bounce_ pass!").

 

Keith sat for the rest of the game, his mind reeling over his last play. He cringed when he replayed the memory of him tripping in his head, and he looked over to where the student section was gathering, due to the JV game soon starting. But the mysterious boy was still up front and standing, talking to an upperclassman with expressed hand motions, mouth babbling about like crazy. 

 

 _He must be popular_ , Keith thought to himself, watching the boy a bit longer before averting his attention back to the game, which was just mere minutes away from ending.

 

They lossed only by eight, and Keith counts that as an accomplishment. After saying twenty million "Good game"s, their coach corralled them all into the locker room, sitting them down in front of the large whiteboard that hung from the wall. 

 

"Eight points, boys," he said, scanning the group. "What could we have done to minimize that gap? Say... make it four? Two? No gap at all?" 

 

The young boys stayed silent, some panting, still out of breath. Finally, Tucker raised his hand, and the coach nodded at him. 

 

"Stronger D." 

 

"Okay, true, what else?" 

 

"More fast breaks!" someone called. 

 

"Grip the ball tighter. We got it stolen a lot."

 

"Not putting Kogane in," Daniel whispered from behind Keith, causing a few in the back to snicker. Keith chewed at his lip, his eyes dropping to his lap.

 

"Good, good," their coach said, not hearing Daniel's remark. "These are all things that we need to work on." The guys in the back chuckled, and Keith curled his hands into fists on his lap. "I'll set up a plan, and I expect all of you on that court exactly at 3:30 on Monday. We've only had one game, but we need to learn from it and take what we got. Alright?" Everyone nodded. "Good. Change, and I expect to see you all supporting the other teams in the stands. Good job overall, boys." He clapped, signaling his post-game speech was done, and everyone stood up from where they sat and proceeded to their lockers.

 

Keith found Abby quickly. She was standing near the door that led to the locker rooms, and when she caught sight of him she yelled his name and waved her hands.

 

"Ah! Keith, my boy, good job out there!" she gushed, pulling Keith in for a hug.

 

"God, Abby, not here!" he whined, trying to tug away. His aunt laughed, holding him out at arm's length. 

 

"Ugh, sorry. Teenage boy and all; it's not cool hugging your aunt anymore." 

 

Keith rolled his eyes, adjusting the strap to his bag that was slung over his shoulder. "Not what I mean, Abby." 

 

She smiled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, leading him back to the gym. "I know, I know." 

 

They found Abby's coat rather slowly, due to the ever-growing crowd, and took a seat. The teams were still warming up, and a hideous dubstep/rap song was playing. 

 

"This music..." Keith's aunt grimaced. Keith nodded in agreement. They had the same music taste, which was both fun and scary at the same time. Abby looked over at him, eyeing his wet hair. "Shower?" 

 

Keith nodded. "Of course." 

 

Abby quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, really-"

 

"Stooop!" Keith sighed, swatting her arm. Abby only chuckled, pulling a strand of dark hair behind her ear. 

 

"I'm just playing, Keith."

 

"Yeah, yeah," he hummed, looking away and scratching the back of his neck. They went silent, watching the captains of each time go to the center with the refs, shaking hands and saying names. 

 

"You played a really good first game, Keith," Abby said a few moments later. "And I'm so proud of you."

 

Keith swallowed. "Thanks, Abby. Even though my coach said I costed us the game and all my teammates didn't want me in, but thanks. Really."

 

Abby was frowning at him. "What?"

 

Keith shrugged. "That's what I heard."

 

"Keith, please don't listen-"

 

"I know, I know," he sighed. He sent her a smile to comfort her. "I'm not." 

 

Abby nodded. "Good. I don't want you-"

 

"Welcome everyone!" the announcer's voice boomed throughout the gym. "Tonight we have our own Landen Tigers versus the Bronson Chippewas! Here's the line up..." 

 

Abby leaned into Keith. "You were great. Don't care what others think." 

 

"I know," Keith muttered back. "Don't worry about it." 

 

His aunt sighed, leaning away. They sat through all the names and introductions, and watched as the ten players walked onto the court and got ready for the tipoff. 

 

The student section came alive right when the Chippewas got possession. 

 

"D-D-D Defense!" one of the leaders belted, and together everyone then chorused, "D-D-D Defense! D-D-D Defense!" 

 

Abby laughed, clasping her hands and eyeing the large group of teenagers. "Brings me back to _my_ high school years!" she exclaimed happily, glancing over at her nephew. Keith chewed his lip, looking at the group warily. 

 

He found the blue-eyed boy from earlier, still up in front with the other leaders. He had his arms raised, loudly chanting and encouraging the crowd to join him, which they did. 

 

Now that he was a bit further away now, he couldn't clearly see his face. He bent down and rifled through his bag, pulling out his thick-rimmed glasses and sliding them on. 

 

The Chippewas scored from within the key, and the other side of the gym roared. A student section of their own was gathering, and Keith noticed the two groups sending each other glares. 

 

Keith couldn't help but snicker-- how petty. 

 

We came back down the court strong and fast, taking our opponents by surprise. Abby let out another _whoop!_ when one of our guys made a three, along with everyone else besides Keith. 

 

The JV game came and went, the Tigers taking the title with a twenty point gap. Now the crowd was even bigger for the Varsity, and Keith thought there had to be more than five hundred people here. It was so loud; the cheerleaders shouting, both of the sixty+ student sections yelling chants, the crowd chatting, the coaches yelling, whistles blowing, buzzers buzzing. 

 

It was a fiasco, really. 

 

But in a way it was comforting. Basketball was such a big sport for their school, and Keith liked that he was involved somehow. The thing, though, is that if he continues with it, he would be here one day, in front of this crowd of hundreds of people. 

 

That was the only thing making him hesitant to keep going. 

 

But hey, that was still years away. A lot could change by then.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again guys! Here's a few notes before the next chapter:
> 
> Shiro makes an appearance, and we dive a little deeper into his and Keith's new friendship. Just so y'all know Shiro's only one year older! (So sophomore at the moment)
> 
> Enjoy this next chapter, y'all.

It was 3:36 when Keith rushed onto the court the following Monday, out of breath and already breaking a sweat. He hurried over to where his team stood, feeling the heat of their scrutinizing gazes as he came closer. 

 

"Kogane!" their coach shouted. "Did you not hear instructions on Friday?" 

 

Everyone was staring at him, and he licked his lips. "N-No, sir. But my aunt had work and couldn't drop me off until the set time. I'm sorry." 

 

The older man tsked. "No 'I'm sorry's in basketball, son. Give me two laps and then join us." 

 

Daniel, Jeff, and Cole snickered, smirking at Keith. The raven-haired boy turned away, and started his trek. 

 

Let's make one thing clear: Keith hated running. He wasn't good at it. His side always hurt, and he was so out of shape that he was breathing heavily only after the first lap.

 

Yeah, he admits he has some pudge, but it's whatever. 

 

The team already started a drill when Keith finished, and his coach briefly explained it to him before shoving him into one of the three lines that were lined up at the baseline. 

 

This was a break away drill; the line in the middle would dribble the ball all the way down the court, as the two on the sides ran alongside him. The middle would pass to their right, who would then shoot a basket. Meanwhile, the runner on the left would touch the baseline, then run back, turning so they could catch the ball that was being sent from the other side. They would then shoot at that basket. 

 

A few things that worried Keith:

  1. He couldn't run fast.
  2. He couldn't dribble. At all.
  3. He couldn't throw a ball all the way across the court, so how was he supposed to get it from one side to the other?
  4. He couldn't shoot for shit.



 

Let's just say it wasn't as graceful as it should've been. 

 

At around 4, an older student walked into the gym, and Keith recognized him as one of the players on the JV team. But he couldn't place a name... 

 

"Shirogane!" his coach awknowledged him, bringing him in for a brief hug. 

 

Oh, it was _Shiro_. Shiro with that small scar on his nose and the bleached white bangs and the soft brown eyes.

 

Also known as Keith's ex-crush from like, seventh grade. 

 

Why didn't he recognize him? 

 

"Hey old man!" the older teen greeted, making Coach sputter. 

 

"Old man? Who you calling old man?" 

 

They both laughed, and Coach blew his whistle. "Everyone gather around!" Keith swallowed, following everyone and forming a semi-circle around the two of them. "This is Shiro, point guard on JV. He's agreed to help us out today. Treat him as you would me." He turned toward the older teen. "We're gonna do stations, mind overseeing post-shooting?" 

 

"Not at all," Shiro responded. 

 

"Good," Coach smiled, and he turned toward the freshmen. "We all know this drill." He pointed to one of the main baskets. "Free throws." Pointed to one of the side baskets. "Boxing out." Another. "Layups." The other main hoop. "Post-shooting. Got it? Split up, four at each one." 

 

Keith was the last to get to a station, knowingly avoiding the free throws and lining up for boxing out. 

 

"Kogane, here," Coach pointed to one of the blocks. "Alright boys, when I shoot the ball, Davis and Kogane will block out while Henderson and Kunde try to rebound. Questions?" 

 

The four stayed silent, and Coach proceeded by throwing up the ball. Immediately, Keith and Tyler bent, pushing themselves against Justin and Max and raising their hands. 

 

Max pushed against him, but Keith gritted his teeth and refused to let up, watching as Tyler easily got the rebound. 

 

"Good!" his coach clapped. "Now switch roles, and let's do it again." 

 

Keith blew out a breath before stepping behind Max. Coach tossed the ball up again, hitting the backboard purposefully. Max, at least a full a head taller than Keith himself, pushed back into the smaller boy. Keith nearly lossed his footing, stumbling back and watching as Max easily caught the ball. 

 

"Gotta put your weight in it, Kogane!" Coach yelled, and Keith nodded, switching places with the taller boy.

 

They continued for a few more minutes until Coach blew his beloved whistle and shouted, "Rotate! We're moving clockwise!" 

 

The group hurried across the gym to the next station, layups, and Keith mentally rejoiced. This was actually something he could do! 

 

"Keith, you're left-handed, right?" asked Tyler as they got to the hoop.

 

"Yeah?" Keith said. 

 

"Just askin'," he muttered while grabbing a ball from the rack that sat near by. "I was just thinking we could use that as an advantage." 

 

Coach blew his whistle to announce that it was time to start, and Max immediately ran full speed at the basket, lifting his right leg up and easily making it in. 

 

"How?" Keith questioned Tyler as Justin went next, him too going in from the right.

 

"The D isn't as strong on the left; they don't expect anyone shooting there. Explains how you scored on Friday." 

 

Oh. 

 

Keith couldn't respond, for Tyler had took off and was running toward the net. He sighed, looking after him, and then walked over to the left of the key.

 

When Tyler was out of the way, Keith ran. His dribbling was a bit awkward, but hey, he got to the net, unlike last practice, and he lunged, dropping the ball right into the net.

 

"Nice!" Tyler shouted, clapping twice and grinning. Keith smiled back. 

 

"Thanks."

 

"So as I was saying..." said the taller boy when Keith walked up to him. "If Coach just played you more, we could always pass you the ball and you could score from right behind the D. That one play you made last game was pretty good." 

 

Keith bowed his head, his cheeks reddening. "T-Thanks." He glanced up, and realized he was talking to no one; Tyler was already gone and shooting. Keith sighed and walked over to his starting position, ignoring the stares of Max and Justin. 

 

Minutes later, the whistle blew again. "Rotate!" 

 

Keith's face paled, realizing that they were now at the post-shooting. With Shiro. 

 

"Hey guys," the older boy smiled.  "Before we get started, mind telling me your names?" 

 

"Max."

 

"Justin."

 

"Tyler!" 

 

Shiro's eyes flickered over to Keith, who shrinked and looked at the wood floor. "Keith," he mumbled. 

 

Shiro looked at him for a little longer before focusing his attention back on the group. "Well this station is post moves, which I for one am pretty good at-"

 

_Great_ , Keith thought. _Just great_. 

 

"-let's start with Tyler. You play post often, Tyler?" 

 

Tyler nodded. "Yeah." 

 

"Good, good. Show me what you got." 

 

Tyler nodded curtly, making his way over to the block. "From here?" 

 

Shiro pursed his lips. "To start, yeah." 

 

Tyler lifted the ball over his head with good form, and he shot the ball easily. 

 

"Next," said Shiro abruptly. Keith gave the other two boys a sideward glance, and thanked the heavens when Max stepped up. "Same place." 

 

Max took Tyler's spot at the block, copying his actions and sending his ball through the net.

 

Shiro nodded. "Next." 

 

Justin took Max's place, and soon enough he was done as well. Shiro looked at Keith expectantly. "Your turn, Keith." 

 

Keith swallowed. Oh god, he remembered his name? He nodded and stood where the others once did, eyeing the hoop warily. He slowly raised his ball, fully knowing his form was terrible, bent his knees, and pushed. The ball smacked the backboard, then the rim, then Shiro's face. 

 

"Oh god!" Keith cried. "Shiro, I'm sorry. Shit." 

 

Shiro was laughing, though, rubbing his nose with a smile. "It's okay, Keith."

 

"Ah! No, no it's not-"

 

"Just get back in line," said Shiro, passing Keith his ball. "Nice try, though."

 

Keith spun on his feet and stood behind Justin, cursing himself mentally. 

 

His first shot was no better than the first, but at least he didn't hit Shiro in the face. 

 

"Getting there," he had said as he passed the rebound back to Keith. "Getting closer." 

 

He didn't even get a shot in when Coach blew the whistle. 

 

"Good job, guys!" Shiro said as they went on to the next station. Keith was the only one who sent him a small smile, and Shiro watched him curiously.

 

After practice, Shiro made his way over to Coach, who was busy wheeling the balls into the storage room. 

 

"Hey, Coach?"

 

The older man looked up from his task, smiling when he noticed Shiro coming closer.

 

"Yeah? What can I do for ya?" 

 

Shiro stopped a few feet away, crossing his arms over his chest. "You know that kid, what was his name, Keith?" 

 

"Kogane?" Coach asked, sending him a curious glance. "What about him?"

 

"I was wondering if I can, uh, I don't know, practice with him one on one?" 

 

Coach blew out a breath, wiping his hands together. "Well I agree that he needs practice."

 

"Yeah, and I want to help him." 

 

Coach nodded thoughtfully for a minute, mulling over the options in his head. 

 

"Sure, why not." 

 

**\- - -**

 

Keith watched from the stands as Shiro shot and made another basket. The crowd erupted, everyone standing up from their seats, the student section easily heard from where they sat. 

 

The boy found himself clapping alongside his aunt. 

 

"Yes! That #30 makes every single shot!" Abby exclaimed. 

 

"Yeah," Keith hummed, watching Shiro as he defended, "he's really good."

 

The crowd calmed and sat down, but the student section remained standing and chanting. Abby turned toward her nephew. 

 

"You said he came to your practice Monday?" she questioned. 

 

Keith nodded. "Yeah. And he came up to me the other day saying he wanted to, uh, help me one on one." 

 

His aunt quirked an eyebrow. "Really?" 

 

"Yeah," Keith shrugged. "Guess that just shows how bad I am." 

 

Abby scowled, the same scowl as him and his mother. "Don't say that, Keith." She looked out onto the court and pointed at Shiro. "He is... wow." Keith sent her a sideward glance. "Sorry, sorry. We can clearly see that he is amazing and should be on Varsity already. Keith, imagine it. Him training you? You're going to become amazing!" 

 

Keith pursed his lips, mulling over what his aunt had just said.

 

Yes, that's true. _Very_ true, actually. But the older teen asked him if he wanted help, and that had just _totally_ lowered Keith's already low self-confidence.

 

Keith turned away from Abby and focused back on the game, watching as Shiro scored yet again.

 

**\- - -**

 

"What should we work on first?"

 

Keith stared up at the sophomore warily. "Um... I don't know?" 

 

Shiro shot him a brief smile, shifting his weight on his feet and placing his hands on his hips. "Okay. Well let's start with strengths, then. What are you good at?"

 

Keith cocked his head to the side, mulling over the few options he can deliver. "I can do layups."

 

Shiro nodded thoughtfully, and then continued to look at him expectantly. When Keith didn't say any more, he said, "That's it?" 

 

Keith swallowed hard. "Yeah." 

 

"Okay," the older boy nodded again, bringing the basketball he held up to his chest. "Heads up." He quickly passed the ball over to Keith, who wasn't ready, and it slammed into his chest and dropping into his arms. 

 

"Agh!" he cried, his chest burning. 

 

"Gotta be quicker!" Shiro clapped, taking a few steps back so they had a pretty adequate amount of space between them. "Pass it back." 

 

Keith stared down at the ball in his hands, and then back up at him. "O-Okay." 

 

With a deep breath, he brought the ball up to his chest, gripped it tight, and then pushed, making it a little more than half way before the ball touched the ground. Shiro caught the bounce easily. 

 

And without another word he passed back, and this time Keith actually caught it. 

 

"Good," Shiro complimented. "Now when you pass back, put one foot in front of the other." He demonstrated, stepping forward and pushing the air. 

 

Keith nodded, and he copied what he had just saw. The ball reached Shiro in one long arc, and both of the boys smiled. 

 

"Getting there," said Shiro, passing the ball back quickly. Keith caught it to his chest, wrapping his arms around it. 

 

_Maybe this wouldn't be so bad_ , he thought hopefully.

 

Thirty minutes later Keith was vomiting into the trash can Shiro had hurriedly dragged in from the hallway. 

 

The older teen stood beside him, patting his back. "I didn't think I was pushing you _that_ hard," he said, chuckling slightly. 

 

"Mhm- _agh_ ," Keith gagged, screwing his eyes shut as he felt bile rise up his throat. 

 

_Can today get any worse?_ he asked himself.

 

All of a sudden voices can be heard from the locker rooms, and Keith glanced up from his can. "Are you serious..." he muttered. 

 

"And that would be Varsity," Shiro sighed. "Let's get you out of here before their practice starts, okay?" 

 

Keith nodded in full agreement. Shiro lifted on of Keith's arms over his shoulders, and together, with the trash can, they snuck out the gym doors and into the hallway. 

 

"Ugh, sorry for all this, Shiro," Keith sighed when he settled himself on the floor, back against the wall.

 

"It's alright, Keith," Shiro chuckled, bending down so that they were at the same level. "I'll get your water bottle. Water's what you need right now."

 

Keith nodded, and watched as Shiro hurried back into the gym where he could hear the voices of the upperclassman and the their coach.

 

In no time Shiro was back with both of their bags, tossing Keith's red one down by his feet.

 

"Thanks," he said, grabbing the strap and pulling it toward him. He fished for his water bottle and popped it open, bringing it to his mouth with a sigh.

 

"Need me to call your parents for you?"

 

Keith gulped down the liquid and glanced over at Shiro, his throat going dry. "Uh," he coughed. "No, no. I can do it." 

 

Shiro frowned. "Okay." He bent down to his level again. "When are you free again?" 

 

Keith shrugged. "Any day, really. I'm free." 

 

"Sure?"

 

The younger boy nodded. "Yeah. I get most homework done at my free period, so I don't really do much else." 

 

"Alright," said Shiro. "I'll text you the next time, then, alright?" 

 

"Yep. Sounds good." 

 

The older boy clapped him on the shoulder before standing up. "Okay then. See you later, Freshy." 

 

Keith managed a smile, and sent him a small wave as he retreated toward the gym again. 

 

_Guess he's practicing with Varsity_ , Keith thought. _Of course_. 

 

**\- - -**

 

"D-!"

 

"-FENSE!"

 

"D-!"

 

"-FENSE!"

 

"D-!"

 

"-FENSE!"

 

"Do they ever shut up?" 

 

Keith glanced over at Tyler. "I don't really know." 

 

Tyler grimaced, watching the minuscule student section as they chanted and screamed. "I never liked that guy." 

 

Keith glanced over at him as the ref's whistle blew. He scooted closer to him on the bench and lowered his voice. "Who?" 

 

"The one in the blue: Lance." 

 

Keith followed his gaze to find the same boy who cheered for him last Friday.

 

Oh.

 

"Why don't you like him?"

 

Tyler shrugged. "Loud, obnoxious. Doesn't know when to quit." Keith sent him a curious glance, and Tyler continued. "We're in English together. One class too many." 

 

Keith sent him a small smile. "I like the way you think." 

 

They chuckled, and then focused back on the game.

 

Well. Keith tried to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse any errors that were there! I don't want to see this chapter anymore and didn't proofread it one last time.
> 
> Until next time.


End file.
